Two Princes in the Dirty

Before I get started note that I don’t plan on reviving @hwaleswatch. Tweeting every news item that pops up and letting you know that Prince Harry just farted at the All Star Lanes or bought a frappucino two minutes ago takes too much time (also: boring.) Okay, I lied. I succumb too easily to peer pressure and am apparently a masochist. I’m giving @hwaleswatch a trial run to see if I really want it back in my life or not.

But I’ve been unable to completely give up royal watching and my resolve to do so is tested by constant pleas to start tweeting again. So I’m thinking of blogging here semi-regularly just to get my royal ‘pinions out there. This would also spare my non-royal twitter followers who DGAF about the Kardashians of Kensington Palace. ( I just coined that term on my other blog. You like it?) Maybe there will even be some guest bloggers now and then.

Let’s do it. This week was all about the clusterfuck in Bluff City (oh and a breakup.) No pics this time as I don’t have time to run around getting permission to use photos you’ve already seen.

Harry and Cressie move to splitsville.

Monday morning (28th) I started seeing several headlines in my Google Alerts about H & C calling it quits. But they weren’t from sites I considered reputable so I ignored them. By Wednesday though, every news source was saying it was a full-blown fact. A tear rolled down my cheek.

I like Cressida – at least as much as one can like a complete stranger you only know from articles in tabloids and entertainment websites. I admire her collection of Docs and expensive kicks. She seemed the type of girl who would suit Harry without the constant fag and vodka tonic air past girls have had. Also, I was sad because I’m so looking forward to another royal wedding.

When Will & Kate tied the knot I took the day off from work, had a party, made made little toothpick Union Jacks that said “Will + Kate” & stuck them in cupcakes. For the Bonas/Wales nuptials I was planning to make a scrunchie tiara. Trust me, it would’ve been glorious.

All may not be lost though. There’s much speculation that this is a “cooling off” period and they’ll reunite. Fresh out of school seems too young to marry IMO (especially to someone so high profile) so good on her if she wants to just enjoy being a twenty-something. Please, sugar, from experience I say enjoy it while you can.

As to why they broke up there are as many theories as to what happened as there are theories about flight MH370. Feel free to pick one offered up by the tabs or delve into Tumblr fansites and find something really special. I don’t think anyone but the two of them know why they split and that’s how it should be. It might be fun to ponder for a bit but when people go on and on for weeks (I know it hasn’t been weeks yet but people will still be going on about it come July,) it grates.

Harry kept his trunks on in Miami

I was surprised when only a day or so after we heard he was once again single, I got a text saying “Hey did you know that Prince Harry’s in Miami?” Ruh-roh. My trepidation grew when the first snaps of Capt. Wales laying poolside whilst apparently making proper use of sunblock included some of his old buddies like Skippy and Arthur Landon, a.k.a. the Wolf Pack.

But it looks like dear Harry was on his best behavior. Other than a few good snaps of him poolside drinking out of a coconut very little came out. The Sun made it seem like he was all up on some CW “star” but this video from the NY Daily News doesn’t make it look flirty. There were some incredibly shitty phone shots of the VIP box where he and the Wolf Pack hung out at the LIV nightclub but all we saw was Skippy macking on some chick. Maybe he told her he was Harry and she believed it. (American chicks seem to be falling for that lately.)

Overall no news is good news. Even this dribble of “news” may not have come out if not for the Miami Herald gossip columnist who first tweeted and wrote about it. In her column she says she was given word ahead of time (such indiscretion might have lead to Memphis Madness as well.) If anything raucous happened, we didn’t hear about it. Which is a good thing. Perhaps Harry’s RPOs have finally learned their lesson.

The Court Jester Got Married and Memphis Lost Their Minds

We should really stop calling Guy Pelly the “court jester” and “cherub-cheeked.” He’s a successful businessman, now properly wed, and those nicknames conjure up unfortunate fancy dress costumes. Let’s treat him with some respect, poor little drunk-driving leprechaun.

It really wasn’t the city of Memphis that lost their minds, it was their local news. (see below)

So yeah, anyway, despite my swearing up and down it was not going to happen, Harry and William got deep in the Dirty South this weekend. They tasered poor, unsuspecting Memphis with their royal royal-ness for Guy’s wedding to Lizzy Wilson, who’s family founded and once owned the Holiday Inn chain. (Why does this amuse me so? Is it because if we judged the woman solely by the stars of her family’s hotels she would rank below Paris Hilton?)

I really didn’t expect the boys to come over – so much so that I told people on Twitter I would eat all of Pharell’s Arby hats if they did. Being wrong sucks. I hate Arby sauce. I didn’t expect it to happen b/c Will just got back from a long tour, Harry has a day job (supposedly) and is due to be abroad for awhile over the next couple of months on official engagements. And, also, a smallish, southern town like Memphis playing hosts to royals seemed like a nightmare waiting to happen.

I was mostly wrong on the last part. I mean people behaved themselves. The wedding guests got to be tourists and walk through Graceland and its wonderful shag carpeting. They even made a couple of hundred people’s year by walking past them into a BBQ joint. The screaming! The Memphis cops hating their job! It was brilliant.

I don’t hate on the peeps waiting for them outside of Rendezvous BBQ. I mean W&H are triple-A level celebs. Bey, Jay, and Oprah would have all been trying to instagram them too. And to their credit, the boys took it in stride. They know what’s up. They know it’s hard out for there for a pimp prince.

Past the BBQ (and as much as I’m about to rag on local news, let me just say one of the highlights of this weekend was seeing a national news correspondent say “Bee Bee Queue” Wtf?), we didn’t see a whole lot of them. Long lens shots of them in cheesy Elvis sunglasses and audio headsets on their Graceland tour were momentarily amusing. (Except for Will who’s apparently too cool for dorky sunglasses.) There were more long lens shots of them coming and going to the actual wedding. Both of them wore the same exact morning suits they always do to weddings so this is beyond boring. (I believe I’ve railed against Harry’s yellow waistcoat on this blog before.) And that was really it.

I hear guests had to give up their phones at the wedding so pics of Harry supposedly twerking or William busting out his best Blues Brothers impression onstage at the reception will probably just have to play out in our imagination. I’m glad a bunch of super rich white people had such a blast and that our state department had to dispatch Secret Service agents and caravans of black SUVs to keep them safe. That’s special.

The local press did not make such a task easy and it is to them that I say, “thanks a lot, this is why we can’t have nice things.” They had live streams of them landing at the airport, they were desperately asking anyone and everyone on Twitter for help finding them (and some of those “everyones” were very dubious sources.) The local reporters were in that manic state usually reserved for Texas meteorologists when there’s a hint of an ice storm coming. I get it, it was newsworthy. But I think every coffee pot in every local affiliate in Memphis needed some Xanax brewed in.

Is some of the blame here on the palace? I think so. Why in the hell did they not tell local officials, “Look, don’t fly helicopters over their moving vehicles. Or fly on the same plane with them to their layover. Not cool man.” The past few years of royal watching has seen my confidence in the palace machine being able to properly manage and market their assets decline dramatically.

That’s it. I’m tired. My next post will mark a special anniversary that @royalreview and I share. So stay tuned.